Pandora's Box
by xErised
Summary: Shamelessly twists seemingly innocent canon scenes in Book 6&7 to show how Draco helplessly and unexpectedly surrendered to Harry. Complete. HP/DM
1. Baptism

**Pandora's Box by xErised **

**Baptism**

Within a writer's repertoire, there will always be one or two pieces that she spends a bit more time on to scour the prose with a fine-toothed comb and to craft the words to make it justthat**little**bitperfect- because she fiercely keeps it close to her heart.

This is one of them, I believe.

Excerpts from Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows belong solely to J.K Rowling.

_Pandora's Box_ is a two-shot, with the next and last chapter being uploaded next Friday. It's rather long, so do get a drink, make yourself comfortable and enjoy.

* * *

In Hogwarts, there is one particular place that offers an encompassing panorama of the school. The floorboards might be a little worn, the tiles might be a little old and it might get a little cold there, but the Astronomy Tower has been privy to the endless histories and landmark events of Hogwarts.

At night, shadows, thoughtless, foul, formless and flirty, slither and climb across the walls of the turret, their drowsy breaths mingling and writhing with fronds of glittery moonlight. There are scrapings of spirit _scythe to the soul, murder to the mind and hangman to the heart_- smeared on the ground, a smattering, a sprinkle of pixie dust scattered here and there. A gossamer aura of perfectly breached secrets lingers, hovers and thrums, vibrant and glowing.

But most of us remember this place as where we might have first fallen in love.

The Tower beckons couples to it with romances of icing sugar white and candy love-heart pink, and this is where prancing lovers trade sighs for kisses and whispers for touches. And if you're lucky enough to be with your special someone when the most beautiful, the most brilliant stars are aligned flawlessly with the mythical prophecies of the planets, it's as though the world has stopped breathing, and there's no one in existence, no one at all but just _youandhim youandhim_ **youandhim**-

_"-always and forever, Draco, don't leave now, please-"_

We're so close now.

_Don't turn away._

* * *

_"-fell to his knees beside Malfoy, who was shaking uncontrollably in a pool of his own blood."_

_Page 489, Half-Blood Prince_

The nib of his quill hovered uncertainly above the parchment, a lone, oily globule of ink forming at the tip and it looked as if it was about to fall _dripdropticktocksnipsnap_- onto the paper, but Harry quickly scrawled his name at the end of the letter, pinpricks of doubt relentlessly burrowing itself all the way to the back of his mind. The brunette swallowed and was about to reach for an envelope, but he paused when his eyes snagged on Draco's name in the letter. He squeezed his hand into a fist, his tongue running jerkily across his dry lips as he remembered what had transpired in the bathroom two days ago.

At the very least, Harry owed the Slytherin an apology.

The Gryffindor's thumb slid and slipped on the corner of the envelope, a single forefinger tucked under the flap, but there was still hesitation, and slowly, very slowly, Harry exerted pressure on the edges of the letter, as though he was about to crumple it all up and pretend that nothing had ever happened-

"Morning, Harry. Wanna go down to the Owlery before breakfast? I've got a letter to send to Mum."

Harry jumped and swiftly shoved the letter in his pocket when Ron poked his head in.

"The Owlery? Yeah… um… sure. Just give me a moment," Harry said shakily, mustering up a half-smile. Ron nodded and retreated, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts once again. Frowning at nothing in particular, Harry decisively folded the wrinkled letter up and slit it in the envelope, determined not to spend another single second thinking _apologizing when you've done something wrong is the right thing to do_- about it.

With that, both sixteen-year-olds hurried towards the Owlery. While Ron was busy attaching his letter to the leg of his owl, Harry edged a shifty glance towards the redhead and guided Hedwig away from the fray.

He didn't know why, but he wanted no one to know about his correspondence with Malfoy.

Absolutely no one at all.

After fixing the letter to Hedwig's leg, Harry fed her some owl treats and petted her for a while, smiling gently when the delighted owl cooed and nuzzled into his hand. The brunette's mind drifted to Malfoy's reaction when he received the letter, curious as to how the other boy would respond. Would he reply with threats, streams of vituperation or dish up his usual trademark glaze of Malfoy sarcasm?

But it had been none of the above.

Two days had passed and Malfoy didn't even deign to give Harry an answer to his painfully penned letter. But Harry knew that Malfoy had gotten it, he knew it by that tiny telltale hike of his thin lips, that stain of a sneer when the blond regarded Harry over the rim of his goblet during meals. Harry knew it by those disparaging glances that Draco shot towards him during lessons, as though he was privately mocking him. And with each passing hiss of a smirk, each barbed iceberg in arctic grey eyes, boiling contempt mounted in Harry, until one night, he could no longer hold it in anymore.

Armed with his Marauders' Map, Invisibility Cloak and of course, his wand, Harry padded towards the Astronomy Tower. He stealthily climbed up the winding staircase to the summit of the Tower, wondering what he would find Malfoy doing up there.

A dark, filmy smog of a cloud trudged wearily across the cold night sky, and the hostile, harsh ghosts of moonlight streamed and slashed their way into the Tower. A meander of chilly breeze hushed across both boys and caressed their solitary forms, but yet, Draco Malfoy sat silently and so still that it was almost frightening, but Harry noticed the way the Slytherin's hand immediately snapped towards his wand when he realized that he was not alone.

A Potions textbook was laid open on his lap, but it was obvious that Draco was lost in the thistles of his own thoughts. His eyes were contemplative and pensive in the shadows, matching the turbulent, almost dangerous grey of the Hogwarts Lake beyond. Draco was all body, blood, bone and bandage, so pale, so white, so fragile that he looked like he would disintegrate into bits and pieces on the floor with just a single nudge.

"You didn't reply my letter," Harry accused, noxious anger fueling his voice with fire.

And it was only then that Draco angled his head marginally towards the intruder, but still keeping his body facing away from Harry. Harry saw the flint and the secrets woven behind Draco's eyes, saw the bitter parody of a smile playing on the blond's lips. Frostbite, courtesy of Draco's glare, oozed down Harry's face in thin rivulets as the Slytherin let out a derisive snort of laughter.

"How funny, Potter, I didn't get the impression that we were pen-pals," Draco pointed out, a harsh undertone simmering beneath his words.

"Look, Malfoy, I don't know if you actually read it, but I just want to… apologize for what I did to you in the bathroom that day. I didn't mean for it to happen," Harry admitted, his tongue stumbling a bit and his fingers clicking spasmodically while he spoke.

"Reckon that it'll make everything alright just by that single sorry, didn't you? It'll probably make you sleep better at night, probably give you some sort of self-gratification simply by saying that. Leave, Potter, get out and don't you dare come back!" Draco snarled, his voice spiraling upwards at the end.

Harry scowled furiously at the other boy and turned sharply on his heel, ready to leave things _I've apologized, that's all_- as they were, but froze when Draco's voice rang out again, scarily soft, deathly dull, almost pitying, an echo of a dry little snicker accompanying his creepily cryptic words.

"Don't get lost in heaven. You might not be able to get out."

* * *

It took two days for Draco to stop screeching at Harry whenever the stubborn brunette kept turning up at the Astronomy Tower every night.

_"What are you doing here, Potter, I told you not to come back-"_

_"The last time I checked, this place doesn't belong to you. I have a right to sit here too, don't I?"_

And it was then that Draco realized that it was no use fighting it, that Harry had dug his heels in. So he had done the next most logical thing; steered clear of the Tower for the next week, hoping that this… fad would have faded and he would have the Tower alone to himself again. Every single night, a wary Draco would hover uselessly at the top of the staircase and peek up the Tower, winding up feeling horrified and scandalized when a dogged Harry was still there. The Gryffindor had brought his schoolwork, books and parchment and the git even had the utter audacity to sit at Draco's favorite spot! A thoroughly incensed Draco had kicked Harry out there and then, plonked his bum right at his usual location, flipped open his books and pretended that the other boy did not exist.

Harry had only directed a wintry smile towards Draco and sat a far distance away from the blond.

Another three days passed before the both of them bothered to engage each other in (relatively) civil conversation.

_"So… how was… school today?_

_"You really were a dimwit today, Potter. I can't believe that you screwed up today's potion. Only a complete idiot could make that sort of mistake-"_

_"… Piss off, Malfoy."_

_"No, you piss off."_

It was surprising how both boys came to expect each other every night, like some unwritten rule had been translated and splayed out in the open. Harry had made it a habit to bring morsels of food that he had smuggled during dinner up to Draco-

_"I didn't see you at dinner tonight. You must be hungry."_

And then those daggered green eyes would sparkle dangerously behind the frames of his glasses, as though he knew _exactly_ where Draco had gone. The blond's features would harden, and he had refused Harry's food initially, but as the days went by, he found himself accepting it, but not eating it in front of the brunette, until Draco had thrown caution to the wind and daintily bitten one or two mouthfuls of cupcake, a small part of him waiting for the eventual poison to set in.

Nothing happened.

It was a funny sort of trust, a progressive alleviation of suspicions that made Draco feel that there was no longer a need to safeguard his wand whenever Harry was around.

It was fairly astonishing how Harry's constant presence chilled and thrilled him at the same time. Sometimes Draco would feel that heavy little dip in his heart, that unwelcome vulnerability when Harry didn't turn up during some nights _when did it get so quiet here, when did it get so lonely here, I don't know_-, be it because of his nightly visits with Dumbledore or because he was having his own hesitations regarding his nightly rendezvous with Draco.

The looming war and their combative sides had been the wordless darkness that they fastidiously avoided, and both boys had kept mum about each other's private operations, but it wasn't long before Harry was done biding his time and had stepped ruthlessly on a landmine-

_"I know where you go when you're not here with me, you're away at the Room of Requirement, I know Voldemort's asked you to do some sort of task-"_

_"That's none of your concern, Potter! You're here to keep an eye on me, aren't you? Probably sending nightly reports back to Dumbledore-"_

_"It's not like that at all! I want to help-"_

_"You want to help? Then leave, I don't want to see you-"_

_"We can protect you, Draco, we'll help you and your family-"_

_"Get out, Potter! I'm not converting over to your side!"_

Draco's words had tasted like fine ashes in his mouth, the wells of shadows under his eyes stretched slick, sallow and sick. It was impossible, completely preposterous_ is it really, Draco, is it really_- for Draco to forsake his family, because just thinking of the light side was like looking at life through the other side of the mirror-

_but those who follow the darkness have no idea what the light can do_-

They had given each other a wide berth for the next week, averting their gaze and dropping their heads whenever they crossed each other in the hallways of Hogwarts. Draco had successfully reclaimed his lair all to himself; the brunette didn't show up during that week. It was funny how cold, how quiet, how alone he felt when Harry wasn't around. The heat from the Gryffindor's body might not have been much, but it had been something, _something_-

So when Harry appeared out of the blue one night, his toes wriggling nervously in his shoes, schoolwork paraphernalia bundled in his arms and wavering irritatingly at the threshold of the Tower, as though he was asking Draco for _permission_ to be let in, Draco _strange how warm it suddenly was_- had only given him a cursory glance and returned his attention to his essay, paying Harry no further heed.

Harry took that as acquiesce.

And it was like nothing had ever happened, not a single word was muttered about the week-long cold war, maybe it was because the both of them knew that it was something that had to be swept under the rug to preserve this cobweb fragility that supported this… dysfunctional relationship-

Was it even a relationship?

Draco didn't know.

But it was those little things, subtle gestures that Draco performed that made Harry stop and think twice-

_"Where are you going, Potter?"_

_"I've run out of ink. I need to go back to the dorms and get more."_

Draco had narrowed his eyes at the Gryffindor and let his breath out in an agitated huff. And then, the blond's hand had moved towards his own ink-well, and with his pinky finger extended, Draco inched his ink towards Harry. If the brunette hadn't been looking, he could have missed that single, loaded _I don't want you to go_- movement.

_because there was someone else there with him-_

_and maybe, just maybe,_

_that was_ **enough**.

Whenever Harry shivered just a bit, Draco would smirk with disdain at the other boy, but not before shoving his own jacket towards Harry-

_"Some hero you are, Potter. You can't even tolerate the cold."_

_"Not all of us are as cold-blooded as you- … What's this-"_

_"It's a jacket. You see, it's what some of us actually wear. Drape it across your shoulders, and you see those two openings there, yes, that's where you put your arms in-"_

_"Don't talk to me in that condescending tone! I know what it is, the thing is… why are you giving it to me-"_

_"Shut up and wear it, Potter. Don't argue with me."_

It took another two weeks before Draco would let Harry touch him.

Harry's right hand had skulked towards Draco's left hand, before stretching his pinky finger out and wrapping it snugly around Draco's own pinky finger. Harry had held Draco's gaze throughout, and green and grey melded sweetly. But Draco didn't miss the way Harry's eyes flickered cautiously towards Draco's wand. The brunette's wand hand was occupied with holding Draco's hand, while Draco had free rein to use his right hand, whip his wand out and blast Harry to oblivion.

"Is it… okay?" Harry had whispered tentatively, his voice low and placid. And it seemed as though Draco was about to rebut with some stinging lash of a comeback, until he saw the way the moonlight shone down on their linked hands, gliding over the papery, sketched webs of the skin held between their spread fingers, and Draco's words stilted _because there's something more rippling beneath the surface_-

Emboldened by Draco's silence, Harry had licked his lips and grabbed Draco's hand fully, interlinking their fingers together. Draco had turned his face away from the Gryffindor, but still kept their hands joined.

_you can continue running, but I'll always be there behind you, asking you to let me stop you, turn you round and hold you_-

It might have just been a mischievous trick of light and shadow, but Harry might have caught a precious glimpse of rose coloring Draco's pale cheeks before the blond looked away, as though he was _blushing_-

And so they sit, opposing soldiers from the dark and light side, together yet divided, their backs towards the world, describable by every paradox.

* * *

_"-the job he wants me to do isn't something that you need to be qualified for," said Malfoy quietly._

_-Page 145, Half-Blood Prince_

Draco would dream, elusive dreams that pulsated and tore apart whenever he tried to touch it. Sometimes he would wonder how a dream would feel between his fingertips, feel at the very tip of his tongue and the sizzling darkness behind his eyes. Would it sting if it was a nightmare? Would it soothe if it was a daydream, bursting with frills and flounces of rainbow, fairytale love?

But he didn't seem to have many sweet dreams nowadays.

In his dreams, the many faces of death_ glorious liberation_-, signed, sealed and delivered, entertained and danced in his mind, black inky messes of destruction everywhere. He dreamt of fractured coffins suffocating in mounds of freshly dug earth, and dead birds, dead, demented, petrified doves with their wings broken and folded excruciatingly under their limp bodies, those very same birds that he had shipped through the Vanishing Cabinet-

Sometimes, Draco would dream of his parents.

And that's when the crying would begin.

His mother would be dressed in coiling, serpentine spider webs, his father would be clad in shadows that taunted and tempted _shhh, broken tongues held hostage_- Draco with coaxing melodies, singing lullabies that made Draco weep _the apple of my eye, but I'm sorry if I turned you blind_- and spelling out bedtime stories that made him bleed. The bleakest gloom would twine around them like how a python would strangle its prey. Their screams would linger in the air like the thickest fog, brutal, barbaric hatred slicing their stomachs, forming filthy fangs and tapered talons. Their lips were like blood strangled from cherries, and their eyes would be studded with crystals, gleaming out from vacant, hollow sockets, like the surface of a pool of still water where nothing could trigger a wave except for a heartbeat of _avadakedavra_!-

They were shackled to the jails of sick sadistic pleasure in which only Voldemort had the key, acting as pawns in a deadly game of chess where Draco would have to be the one to yell _checkmate_, if not, _if not_-

The last thought before Draco juddered awake would be that the blood of his parents was a bit too red for his liking.

His tears, as rare as hand-picked gems, were splashed all over his cheeks like the faintest plague, and a gulping Draco buried his head at the crook of Harry's neck, sobbing _they can't die, they can't, please_- with winterwicked**weariness** that threatened to shatter his body into a thousand irreparable aching pieces.

The Slytherin didn't know when exactly his formal demeanor had splintered and slid off his shoulders like an old, discarded cloak, nor did he know when the transition from Potter to Harry _because he's strong enough for the both of us_- happened.

But he was there, there with him, and that was all that mattered.

"Smile. Smile for me," Harry whispered, a touch of a plea in his murmur. Draco's tears dwindled to a stop, and he viciously swiped at his eyes, angry at himself for breaking down yet again in front of the other boy, but Harry had never minded _crying doesn't mean weakness, it means that you're alive_-.

With that, Draco grudgingly dredged up an old smile that hung dully on his scarred lips. Harry shushed the blond comfortingly and carefully skimmed the train-tracks of tears off Draco's cheeks, tears that burnt like unfulfilled wishes and spluttered like dead stars on Harry's thumbs-

"Go back to sleep," Harry encouraged softly.

"No," Draco said staunchly, shivering when he could still feel the nightmares crawling on his skin like ants. He didn't want to return the realm where death plied its trade at every corner, where he had to play referee in the wrestling match of dreams versus reality, no, he didn't want to go back to sleep at all, he didn't want to be alone with his _thoughtsfearsfeelings_, _and because I can have time with you alone when everyone else is asleep-_

Harry calmly smoothed Draco's messy hair from his forehead, reached up and slid Draco's jacket _it smells like him, smells like vanilla and blond_- off from his own shoulders and wrapped it around Draco.

_we're going to build a castle in the sky and it's only going to be big enough for just me and you_-

Harry licked his dry lips, snaked a hand up to Draco's sleeve and pushed it up, exposing the blond's Dark Mark in the pale, howling moonlight. Harry growled and yanked Draco to his lap. With beads of alarm gathering in his chest, Draco recoiled and tried to wrench his arm free from Harry's grip, but the brunette's arms were still encircled protectively around Draco's body.

Harry had flinched when he caught sight of Draco's Dark Mark during the first few times when the blond had accidentally let his sleeve slip, but now, it was as though Harry had been desensitized to it, and he even thought that there was some sort of macabre _beauty _in the Mark-

With an arm twined around Draco's waist, Harry let his other hand fall to Draco's palm, his calloused fingers tracing the delta of veins that danced and burbled under Draco's wrist, his pulse hissing and humming beneath his skin, and Draco could only watch, his eyes wide as full moons and his heart hammering with consternation as the Gryffindor tip-toed his fingers up, up, all the way up to the Mark-

_in this chaos, we found safety_-

Harry's fingernails twirled coquettishly around the meandering outline of the snake, scratching lightly on the pattern of the diamante scales, ghosting over the snake's flat head, the slit eyes that were alive with fury, and its forked, undulating tongue-

_together we'll dance in the dark_-

Next, Harry trailed his touch over the swollen, protuberant skull, over the gaunt, hollowed ridges of its sunken cheekbones, over the inhumane nostrils, snarling over the rows of straight, glinting teeth that adorned the skull's gaping maw of horror-

_my skin's soaked with your scent, it refuses to come off no matter how hard I scrub_-

And it was only then that Harry dared to meet Draco's horrified gaze-

Draco almost knew what Harry was going to do, but yet, he stayed silent and still, completely and utterly transfixed and entranced by Harry's stare, which was as intense as the glare of a dozen incinerating suns-

Harry dipped his head and touched the very tip of his tongue on the edge of the viper's own tongue.

Draco had to stifle a gasp.

_your angel wings are falling apart_-

Draco clenched and fisted his hand tightly, the tendons on his arm standing out like cords of rope, but Harry only continued his assault on Draco's Dark Mark, his eyes closed, his head still lowered and his lips brushing, sweeping, dashing against the snake's distorted body, each lick sending Draco squirming in a formidable cocktail of pleasure and agony.

_I will hide you when it's too much_-

The Slytherin's thighs tensed and squeezed on Harry's robes, crumpling and wrinkling them. In response, Harry only pulled the other boy closer to his chest, his fingers clutching the blond's hip, his head bobbing up and down as his tongue thrusted and sucked alternatively on the Mark. His licks, nibbles and bites had taken on a blaze of urgency, his lips and teeth moving in an almost animalistic frenzy. Draco clamped his other hand on his mouth, his moan of hysteria _because this wasn't just touch, this wasn't just kissing, no, this was on a whole new plane altogether_- resonating in his cupped palm, his head tipped backwards, exposing his throat in a show of captured vulnerability and his drunken grey eyes rolling backwards into his head. With his other hand, Harry grabbed Draco's hand and interlaced their fingers together in an almost, yes, **almost**- display of affection-

_just don't make me disappear_-

His breath was hot and heavy, his lips moist and tingling as Harry gave Draco's Mark one last flicker of his tongue. He lifted his head, surveying Draco's expression. Draco's cheeks had a heavy tinge of scarlet on them and his eyes were muddy puddles of grey that reflected ebbing shock and fluid desire. The blond shakily raised a hand and slid the pads of his fingers from Harry's temple to his chin, and Harry couldn't help but bask hopelessly in his touch.

Flitters of hesitation speckled Draco's eyes, and the boy exhaled ponderously, as though he was of two minds whether or not to-

_let me_**- **

Pale fingers shifted higher up, until they hovered in the air away from Harry's scar. Harry closed his eyes and arched his face up, ruthlessly forcing Draco to touch his scar. With his features alight with something akin to awe, Draco bit back a gasp while his fingers wandered and explored the raised surface and the violently sharp angles of the brunette's lightning-shaped scar. Draco ran his tongue inside his mouth and leant in, pressing his lips lightly onto Harry's scar-

_corrupt you_**.**

"Go back to sleep. I'll be here. With you," Harry murmured, his voice husky, scratchy and suffused with emotion. Harry reached up and sheathed the both of them in Draco's jacket _vanilla vanilla vanilla nothing but vanilla_-, and they were so close, so close that Draco could almost feel the beating of Harry's heart against his own-

Draco knew they were living on borrowed warmth, and it wouldn't be long, oh no, it wouldn't be long at all before the tightrope _drawn as thin as the wick of a dying candle_- that Draco was trembling on would fade into the side of bitter disappointment or to the side of blissful oblivion.

* * *

How can you fall in love with someone you barely know?

Was it even love?

Harry didn't know.

It had been nothing like that in the beginning. Harry had only wanted to keep tabs on Draco, delve a bit deeper into the fog of secrets that marooned Draco, but it had mutated into something more, so much more until he no longer knew what was right or wrong anymore, a massacre of common sense _do you want to be crucified or crowned_-

_I didn't come here to hold you-_

_now I can't stop_-

His dalliances with the dark was sinking Harry further into the mire, and with every smile, every touch that Draco bestowed onto Harry, the blond was spooling him deeper and deeper into his skillfully crafted web of feigned deceit _is it a trick, is it all a set-up with Voldemort, I don't know, I don't know anymore-_

_"Why are you here, Potter?"_

_"So… so we can fall apart together."_

Sometimes Harry would count the knobs of spine on Draco's back _I wonder how your smile tastes_- when the Slytherin was asleep, and sometimes Harry would notice that Draco's smile was just a bit broken, a bit forced, like plastic from a bubble doll_ I wish I could cradle your smile in my hands, fix it, put it right-_

And sometimes, Draco would whisper "_the stars are beautiful tonight_." in that wistful little voice that tugged on Harry's heartstrings, and Harry would have to bite his tongue, because he might just let slip "_just like you_."

The Gryffindor found night and day strangely disconnected, as if he had one foot in the daily humdrum of school life and the other on their clandestine visits with nothing in between for support.

The secret looks that Harry and Draco exchanged during meals at the Great Hall bridged the gap. There would be this steep intake of breath when the glimpse shared between them turned into a stare, that crystal-light, split-second connection that tingled of the best-kept secrets that sent Harry's mind in a whirl, that look that belonged to two special people that were _meant_ to be together, but it would always, always, _always_ be Draco who broke the precious, tenuous linking of their eyes-

_I wonder if you can hear my eyes blink iloveyouidon'tknow, iloveyouidon'tknow-_

The brunette was trapped in Draco's inescapable snare of blizzard grey, and every single time whenever their eyes sought out each other in desperation, Harry would seize the chance to take a harried tour of Draco's head, see his thoughts form _do you feel anything at all, tell me, do you feel, do you feel?_-, see the things that Draco never said. It was like a loving spell of the sweetest denial, and whenever Draco tore his gaze away, everything would click back into painful regularity and Harry would hear the rise and fall of conversation, hear the utilitarian clinking of utensils, see that they were at the Great Hall and not at the Astronomy Tower living on each other's stolen breaths I_ don't want it I can't bear it, look at me again, Draco, look at me again, please!_

"Harry, mate, your pie's going cold," Ron said warily. He knew that there was something gravely wrong with Harry; his bed was rarely slept in nowadays and Ron would sometimes catch Harry dozing off during classes.

"Just because you have the appetite of a monster, Ronald, doesn't mean Harry has one too," Hermione said, sniffing loftily at the redhead. It wasn't long before Hermione and Ron were sniping at each other again, with Lavender's name thrown in a few times for good measure.

Harry jerked out of his reminisces and speared his fork tartly in his pie, leaving it upright. He downed his juice in one gulp, fighting to keep the discouragement that he felt whenever Ron and Hermione were arguing over matters that were so trivial compared to the impending war that was wedged in between them like a death sentence because no one else understands the gravity of the situation _except for me and _**him- **

Harry hotly shoved himself out from his seat, grabbed his bag and stormed out of the Hall.

At the Slytherin table, Draco serenely finished his own goblet of juice and dabbed at his lips with his napkin, his astute eyes still lingering on the bickering Ron and Hermione and the troubled looks that they shot to Harry's retreating back.

Without a single word, the blond got up coolly and left the table, his tread decisive and certain.

Unlike his so-called two best friends, Draco knew _exactly_ where Harry was going.

* * *

_"… Harry grinned down at Ginny… A long walk in the grounds seemed indicated…"_

_Page 499, Half-Blood Prince_

Draco narrowed his eyes as he caught sight of Harry and Ginny strolling around the Lake. The aura of happiness wafting around the redhead was like ectoplasm, and Draco hissed venomously under his breath, his fingers tensing and gripping the banister of the Astronomy Tower with more pressure than was necessary.

It was at that moment that Harry turned his head disconsolately towards the direction of the Astronomy Tower, and Draco could see that Harry was startled to see a figure clad wholly in black scrutinizing both Gryffindors from his perch.

_we'll simply count down to ten_-

Harry hesitated and dislodged his hand from Ginny's, and making sure that the girl wasn't noticing, the brunette pinioned Draco's eyes with his own and nodded imperceptibly.

It was funny how the resentment that had been curdling in Draco's heart suddenly evaporated altogether.

_let's just continue to play pretend_-

Placated, Draco tilted his head and nodded back, his grasp on the banister relaxing almost immediately, the sides of his mouth hiking up in an arrogant smirk.

_During the days, you might think you have him._

_But when night comes around,_

He's **mine**.

* * *

His lips were on his.

Draco found himself slammed and pushed mercilessly up against the wall of the Astronomy Tower one fateful night. The spines of his books crinkled while they fell down to the floor one by one, just like soldiers at the face of defeat. His eyes held as wide as they could go, Draco let out a squeak of protest that Harry swallowed as the brunette mashed their lips together, his breaths shallow and furious.

_kiss me until we run out of breath-_

Draco shook his head, his hands fastening on Harry's elbows, trying to push him away, but Harry held on, his eyes scrunched tight _act like nothing's wrong_- and his eyebrows knotting together. Tremors of heat radiated from the Gryffindor, the subtle language of his lips begging Draco to let him in, his kiss trying to keep Draco's dissents from coming out _touch like glitter and tongue like candy_-

_kiss me all night don't ever let me go_-

And it was then that Harry opened his eyes, and Draco saw the unquenchable flames of desire drowning in the green that was like the most delectable poison, the thoughts of both boys captured in perfect counterpoint. It wasn't long before Draco's yanks and pushes faltered, his fingers arching and clawing on Harry's forearms, until the blond realized that he was _holding on for dear life_-

_this world is sick so kiss me quick_-

After a tick of delirious hesitation, Draco relented and parted his lips slightly, his own breathing and heart-rate speeding up, the force of his hands weakening fractionally, but the blond _didn't kiss Harry back_-

**something that wasn't really legal- **

It was as though liquid ice was pressed to his fingertips and diffusing upwards, suffocating every nerve under his skin. Draco let out a small, painful sob and firmly threw Harry off, his head reeling with what had just happened. Instead of the warmth of Harry's lips, Draco's mouth was suddenly throbbing with chords of cold, passionless air. The blond's thoughts were vacillating between What He Couldn't Have and What He Wanted-

_if I kiss you back,_

_will you taste like the dreamiest paradise,_

_or the broken glass of _**the accident that never happened**-

And there was nothing left except for the thick, eerie silence that pervaded.

**can you outrun your desires- **

"I can't, we can't, no, no more, Harry, please-" Draco whispered wearily as he stared unseeingly at the lion on Harry's Gryffindor robes and the snake on his own Slytherin robes-

_the lion and the snake-_

_is that little thin line between love and hate_-

"I need you, I need you, Draco. What we have, what we have between us, you can't fight it! I'll do everything that I can to protect you-" Harry said beseechingly, his palms facing skywards as he advanced towards the other boy, but the blond shied away, his back pressed towards the wall. Draco choked back a whimper _it's a pointless hope in hell_- and inched along the length of the wall, his tread shaky and reluctant, like how a suicidal person would shuffle on the ledge of a skyscraper-

**your words are rolling off the tip of my tongue- **

"You don't understand, no one understands!"

It would be so easy to touch his own lips with Harry's, so easy to propel their relationship to a whole new dimension altogether. Some nights when Harry was asleep, Draco would trace the shape of the brunette's lips tentatively with a finger, his pale cheeks invaded with soft clouds of pink blush, wondering how it would be like to kiss him-

**I'm giving too much away- **

No matter how much Draco tried to still the tumult raging in his brain, he couldn't. So with the tiny cacophony of the raindrops the soundtrack of his rejection and his feet stumbling clumsily over the jagged shards of a heartbroken Harry scattered all over the floor, Draco turned on his heel and fled.

"After the war, I'll come and find you, Draco. I'll find you and I'll never let go and we'll be together, properly! I'll promise you that, just don't go, Draco!_ Draco_, please!"

_don't whisper that it's the end_-

* * *

It was Harry's last attempt at contact, exactly like how a dying, drowning man would grapple hopelessly towards the heavens for a glimmer of a rescue rope-

_your touch keeping me whole_-

Draco sat _alive, but not living_- in the Slytherin dorms. Night brought its shuddering ether of silence along with the darkness that haunted. There was no doubt that Harry was at the Astronomy Tower right now, wishing that Draco was in his arms yet again with the hope of the deranged, but Draco hadn't stepped foot in the Astronomy Tower for the past two weeks.

And he wasn't going to start.

The Slytherin held the crinkled letter from Harry in his hands, his fingers rubbing the edge of the parchment between his fingertips. His troubled, dejected grey eyes had been wavering permanently back and forth, back and forth, as though it was some sort of wild, forsaken dream, because within those four words, a hundred other words were nestled in between-

"_Come back to me_."

There was no signature.

There was no need for one.

Draco had bottled up this emotion and kept it so meticulously concealed in the attic of his heart, but there was no denying how the brunette had cut and dissected _your mouth says another thing, your heart's screaming something else and your head doesn't seem to make much sense it's impossible to think but there's no point fighting it because there's something that makes you keep going back to him, pain and happiness at the same time,_ himhim**him**, _something with its own irreversible, undeniable pulse_- the blond's façade with an almost heart-stopping precision and skill.

_do you promise to-_

_love me-_

_until my heart stops?_

But Draco had had enough of toeing _your heartbeat is like a death knell to me_- the line. His plans were being derailed, and he knew that if he ever returned to the Tower, there would be no more turning back.

_let's play a game._

_can you match the image to the sin?_

So with that thought kept locked in his mind, a detached Draco _on the surface, ignoring the chaos reigning in his heart_- pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and his quill and began to pen his reply of seven words. When he was done, Draco impassively folded it up, making sure the corners met perfectly at the angles. The blond then placed it in an envelope and sealed it, his movements strangely jerky and staccato.

No names were mentioned.

_"I was never yours to begin with_."

However, embellished amidst those seven words, the tremor in Draco's handwriting was the _fingerprint that sold him out_.

* * *

_"'He ought to know Malfoy's celebrating-'(on the Vanishing Cabinets being repaired)."_

_Page 507, Half-Blood Prince_

The stars in the sky no longer seemed to twinkle and shine like they were supposed to; they seemed to droop sadly and emit feeble waves of light against the velvety fields of dark sky. Depressing parcels of night mist drifted and swirled wearily amongst the fallen, yet floating clouds.

But still, there was a figure splayed on the floorboards of the Tower, a silent, unruffled silhouette that looked horrendously ghostly in the spotlight of the pale moonlight. Draco stayed hidden in the shadows until he could hear Harry's steady, almost hypnotic breathing, every rise and fall of his chest. With his lip bitten in wariness, Draco slowly nudged his blond head out from the darkness and took a single step forward, his eyes still glued on the motionless form of the brunette.

He approached the Gryffindor cautiously, alert and careful not to disrupt Harry from slumber. The blond swallowed _why are you still waiting for me to come back_- and licked his lips discreetly. Draco sank down to his knees and tenderly smoothed the fringes of black locks away from Harry's forehead, revealing the other boy's scar.

Draco paused _the day we met was like a hit-and-run_- for a long while, his fingers twitching erratically, as though he could still feel the scar whispering its tale of grief and hope beneath his fingertips-

But this time, Draco managed to rein himself in and clasped his hands tightly behind his back. He closed his eyes and breathed in lungfuls of Harry's scent, making sure to keep that heady mixture of soap and that very essence of Harry imprinted in his brain. Grey eyes travelled down Harry's frame and widened when he realized that Harry was still draped in Draco's old jacket. The Slytherin let out a long-suffering sigh and patiently tucked Harry's flung-out arms under his jacket, tutting under his breath about Harry catching a cold.

Harry grunted drowsily and rolled unceremoniously towards the blond.

Draco reared back like a startled pony.

After ascertaining that Harry had dropped off back to uninterrupted sleep, Draco blinked and shifted closer towards the brunette. His hand fumbled under his jacket for Harry's wrists, and the blond let his fingers linger _you are my sickness_- aimlessly there on the inside of Harry's wrists. It had comforted Draco whenever he felt the soft, constant throbbing of life under Harry's skin because it had meant that there was someone there with him, someone that was alive and not a figment of macabre imagination that had carelessly escaped from the Reaper's domain.

Draco exhaled heavily and suppressed the revolving facets of conflicting emotions _you're my borrowed heaven and I don't want to return you back to the gods, I'll learn how to kiss you, I'll try to love you, I'll lick your wounds until they heal_- that bombarded him. Draco's eyelids fluttered closed like a trusting child as he tilted his face towards Harry's, his lips hovering _I'll pretend that you're kissing me, because it's all I've been thinking about, something that I can't confess_- a breath's inch away from Harry's own.

But the Slytherin didn't move _let's just call it an almost-kiss_- any nearer.

It didn't matter, nothing mattered at all because everything that was between them was going to be over soon. This was going to be the last time that the both of them would be in friendly territory. Draco had had his fist closed tightly around his own heart, but Harry had managed to worm in between the slits of his fingers with alarming accuracy. With a last waning look at Harry, Draco choked back a tiny, painful sob and dislodged himself from the brunette, wrenching his gaze away from the other boy in the process. He straightened up and retreated from the solitary form, his heart walking wounded along with the deniable lurch _one step forward, two steps back_- of his legs. Unable to take it anymore, Draco covered his mouth with his hand and lunged up to a stumbling run, his feet slapping hard against the ground.

Because with every forlorn, despondent swing of the frosted pendulum of death(eaters), the end was nearing.

And it won't be a happy one.

* * *

_"Draco is someone 'very capable of compartmentalizing his life and his emotions.'"_

_-J. K. Rowling_

Draco Malfoy had a new persona, and he was donning it like an exquisite, newly-bought mink coat.

Tonight will be all about control.

His stormy grey eyes razor with intent, Draco, with his hands fastened behind his back and his expensive designer shoes beating a steady rhythm on the floor, made his rounds at the summit of the Astronomy Tower, exactly like how an overseer would supervise his invisible slaves.

Tonight was the night that his star will shine brighter than Potter's. Tonight, it will be his name that was uttered in reverent tones _Killed Dumbledore, he did_-, tonight will be the time when he would redeem _honor among thieves_- his family name.

Family.

That was all that mattered to Draco.

It was in his blue, tainted blood, hissing and sputtering like the most venomous serpents in his veins, swimming across his vision like ghosts of the past, present and the future.

_"-to watch over my son, Draco, as he attempts to fulfill the Dark Lord's wishes-"_

_"Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away-"_

_"You can't land my father in prison!"_

Draco thought of his parents whose caged lives he held in the heart of his palm, he thought of the grotesque display of glee that Aunt Bellatrix, that unhinged woman that was so bent on her own private ritual of revenge, would shower upon Draco when he finally succeeded in his mission.

Suddenly, his foot jarred across his jacket that lay neatly folded on the floor.

Draco only gave it a cursory glance, and his leg twitched, as if he wanted to simply ignore it and continue, but the blond frowned slightly, bent down and retrieved it, a bit of his confident composure crumbling like sand crunched in a fist.

The Slytherin contemplatively turned it over in his slim, cold fingers with a sort of clinical detachment. As though the fabric of the jacket was steadily channeling waves of it into him, Draco could feel nibbles of insecurity _you are so fragile and thin, standing trial for your sins_- and fear plunging into his chest, and before he could help himself, Draco brought the jacket up to his nose and breathed deeply, his heart quivering like a badly choreographed dance. Harry and he had been like two unfortunate shipwrecks that had crashed during the night, and it had been Draco who had picked himself up and dusted himself off first _really, Draco, really?_. Draco clenched his eyelids together tightly, remembering how Harry's arms had felt encircled around his body, how Harry's lips had tasted-

_I want to run-_

_but only far enough for you to miss me_-

Draco sharply jerked himself out of that fancy love reverie and began to berate himself for being so weak, so useless to actually spill his emotions and feelings all over the place like some lovelorn _no, I don't love him, I never have and I never will!_- teenage girl. He didn't wear his heart on his sleeve; he had the ability to wring it back fast when he was at risk of losing it, but-

_you've already lost it._

Draco snarled hotly and dropped the jacket, letting it fall to the floor in a crumpled, dusty heap. As if to add insult to injury, Draco stamped hard on the jacket and ground the heel of his shoe spitefully into it, his features hardened into an ugly mask of stoicism and dullness.

The blond's blood debt was buried high up in the clouds, the dead, mangled corpses of his imagination deriving their satisfaction from disaster, oh-so-clever in feathering and festooning their nests of horror and song-and-dance. They unfurled and uncoiled like the filthiest, fattest maggots, mocking and rasping in the depths of his ears, saying _this is all you need, this is all you need_, and with each passing night, the Dark Mark tightened, twirled and twined around his arm like secondhand smoke, smoke in which Draco shared an innate addiction with-

Cold November eyes flickered to Draco's family ring, a thin, sleek strip of unfeeling metal, studded with a single diamond, planted soundly _almost __cutting blood circulation_- on his finger.

It was time to let the Death Eaters in.

* * *

_"His mouth was open, his wand hand still trembling. Harry thought he saw it drop by a fraction-"_

_Page 553, Half-Blood Prince_

It had been a love that had lit up the whole sky like the Dark Mark.

So it meant that their moonlight liaisons hadn't meant a single thing to Malfoy. Harry felt pathetic, betrayed and used, so downright silly for spending every other night in the Astronomy Tower, hoping beyond hope that he could see Draco again, touch him again, comfort him again. Harry had been holding onto the rippling dreams of the blond so tightly, safeguarding Draco's memory within his cupped hands. Harry wanted to wrap Draco around himself in a warm, lovely little ball, where they would doze off into peaceful slumber. The blond had changed things that no one could change before, from the rhythm of Harry's beating heart to the intensity of his breaths.

To Harry, being with Draco was like dipping a toe into the fiery bastions of hell, but it felt, _oh God_, it felt like heaven to the brunette. It was a nirvana that only the two of them understood, but both of them were equally and separately lost in the slippery tombs of secrets that they both shielded. It was like butterflies flitting permanently in Harry's system whenever he touched Draco, like liquid, shimmering adrenaline coursing gently in his blood like the most potent toxin, and everything, everything _everything_'s a mess of nerve endings bubbling with molten fire that made Harry feel so alive, and it doesn't matter, it's like there's nothing on the face of the earth justyouandhim _youandhim, that's why you stay in your cozy place with him, your body spirals out of control, your legs can't stand upright anymore because the floor's all over the place, you can't sleep anymore because you're analyzing him and his bittersweet subliminal messages, and it's like, it's like two feelings that have been softly dissolved together to make a whole new emotion altogether, an aftertaste that no one can put into words, no one except for _youandhim-

But it had meant nothing to the Slytherin.

Draco had pushed Harry away time and time again, deploying a scarecrow in the gritty moors of love to scare Harry off, but the Gryffindor had seen _if I had been a bit more persuasive, a bit more forceful, could I have brought him back, could I have saved Dumbledore's life, tell me, could I, could I?- _through it.

Harry couldn't come to terms with Dumbledore's death and the sudden, full-stop flight of Draco. If only he had known the true intents of cold-blooded murder that Draco harbored, _if only_-

_drop the d__agger and lick the blood on your hands because-_

_when we bleed we bleed the same._

A devastated Harry slumped against the pillar like a marionette whose strings had been sliced _where I held you, where I held you, Draco, or have you forgotten_- in the Astronomy Tower, and he cried _tears like diamonds_-, he wept with sobs that threatened to break his body into aching shards. He cried for the death of Dumbledore, cried for Draco _this love, oh this love that kills_-

His hand stumbled upon Draco's old jacket and Harry lifted it up, letting out another heartfelt sob when he saw the mashed footprint of Draco's shoe on the material. Squalls of fury and grief welled up in Harry, and without thinking, Harry whipped out his wand and set _your smile your saving grace your sin it's all devil in the detail_- the jacket on fire.

This love had pushed round bricks and sneaked through solidly locked doors, seeping through the crevices. Harry had gathered up his courage and apprehensively whispered a "_did you miss me_?" to Draco one fateful night, and Draco had blinked in astonishment at the brunette before tilting his head to one side and nodding shyly at Harry.

Harry had thought _you're a beautiful struggle_- that that had meant something, thought that if he had waited every night for nothing, something might have happened.

And Harry could only sit mutely and watch, with the whites of his eyes gleaming in the darkness like excavated gold, as the flames, slashes of searing orange, jumped, gulped, belched and hopped amongst the threads and stitches of the jacket. They angrily devoured it, the edges of the sleeves curling in resignation while they crumbled beyond recognition. And Harry felt like he was drowning in the heat too, that he himself was withering _you hold the broken pieces of my soul in your hands, I wonder how you'll make me whole again_- like a slow-motion accident, along with the dying jacket-

And it was strange, it was funny how Harry didn't know how long he stayed there, all alone in the Astronomy Tower with only night for company, dirty, rusty tears streaming down his tortured face until Ron and Hermione came running to save him from himself.

_this is why,_

_some love stories,_

_have blood on them_.

* * *

**/tbc**


	2. Almost

**Pandora's Box by xErised**

**Almost**

* * *

_"'What say you, Draco? Will you babysit the cubs?'"_

_Page 16, Deathly Hallows_

_"'Draco, give Rowle another taste of displeasure… do it, or feel my wrath yourself!'"_

_Page 145, Deathly Hallows_

The heart-shaped scar nestled behind his hooded eyes burnt.

Draco crawled over to the other side of his bed and urgently yanked open a drawer, his hand immediately going to the very end of the compartment and clutching the corner of the drawer. His fingers moved jerkily as the blond worked the concealed nook apart. His breath speeding up, Draco ran a tongue over dry lips in appeasement and retrieved the newspaper clipping from its hiding place.

Swallowing quickly, Draco scuttled over to his door, making sure that it was locked. But it didn't seem to provide much relief, Draco thought as he let out a dry humorless laugh. Voldemort, who was downstairs in the hall of the Malfoy Manor, could blast his whole house, much less his door, apart if he wanted to.

The Slytherin slumped back to the pillows, his fingers falling over themselves as they unfolded the salvaged clipping eagerly. Hungry grey eyes were clamped mesmerizingly on the rather grainy and blurry picture of Harry Potter, his hair as unkempt and windswept as usual. His wand was gripped tightly in his hand, and green eyes fringed with wariness and distrust alternated between staring straight ahead and looking towards his back.

Draco's absorption was concentrated wholly on Harry's picture, each slide and glide of his gaze devouring the silhouette of the brunette. Draco let himself be entrapped in Harry's eyes _he's nowhere to be found, I think I might break._ Draco was committing the image of Harry desperately to memory, because if his parents, or worse yet, Voldemort, found the clipping _their tongues bound by a thousand lashes of disappointment and expectation_-

A delusional Draco had thought that if he had stared long and hard enough at the clipping, that maybe, just maybe, it could burst into life and propel the blond back to another time and place, whisk him all the way back to those borrowed nights in the Astronomy Tower. Maybe there would be some secret message in those invigorating green eyes that were meant for no one but Draco, those eyes which had found beauty in his breakdown-

Some nights, Draco could still feel Harry's tongue on his Dark Mark.

Draco sighed softly and smoothened out a wrinkle on the newspaper clipping.

Following the aftermath of Dumbledore's death, Draco found himself turning Harry's offer of salvation and hope in his mind every single day, wondering how things would have been different if he had agreed to accept Harry's offer, instead of pushing him away. Would the world around him still be the weary trudge of battleground every day?

It was strange how thumbprints of blistering regret rioted through the Slytherin whenever he thought of that.

Draco sometimes dreamt of snakeskin, looping, curling snakeskin and festering like mold on a corpse, embezzling the air in his breath and the warmth in his body. The lack of Harry's presence in every dream simply made it harder to stomach, and sometimes he would almost hear Harry in the bed with him, that coaxing, smooth, melodious voice of his engulfing his sweetest dreams and whispering "_sleep, because you can't dream about me with your eyes open_."

That was the only thing that kept Draco going.

Draco grasped the clipping in his hands, got up to his knees on the bed and crawled over to his bedroom window. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead calmly against the misted panes of the window. The days were slowly decimating into dust, where each hopeless wish of his melted in the deep, dead recesses of the night.

_is it over yet_-

Grim ballerinas, the horrific servants of death and dark and empty places, now swung, giggled and frolicked in the Malfoy playground, the same place where a young, cheerful Draco had once spent countless hours with his toys and crayons, toddling from corner to corner and treading happily alongside with Narcissa.

_can I open my eyes_?

But now, the abandoned and disowned playground only served to remind Draco of the daily dosage of death that he had to endure every day.

At this thought of rude reality, Draco clenched his eyelids tighter and exhaled heavily. His fingers could only clasp rigidly at the clipping in his hands, as though it was some sort of tinkling talisman-

_I just hope that wherever you are_,

Draco cracked his eyes open and stared at the gloomy landscape in front of him, his eyes all faraway and lost. The Slytherin felt like he was being tossed and thrashed in the toying waves of the roiling ocean, and the only thing Draco wanted was to find the shore where Harry, and_ only _Harry would be there alone, waiting for him to come back to him too-

Draco collapsed back to bed and began to wait for the stars that were as dark as white, twinkling with lip gloss to lead him to somewhere _that was not here_. High above the polished stars, the moon mercifully threw baskets of glitter down to earth, gently blowing lavender kisses to Draco's bloodshot cheeks.

_you can see the moon._

With that, Draco pushed the covers back with his feet and plopped down to his pillow, huddling himself up in a vulnerable little ball under the blankets. The gleam of grey that was held precariously between his lids slowly flickered, before vanishing altogether as Draco fell into an uneasy, furious slumber.

The clipping slipped sadly away from Draco's fingers, the fragile corners curling up slightly before it fluttered gracefully down to the grimy, dusty floor.

* * *

_"Harry wondered whether they had fallen asleep holding hands. The idea made him feel strangely lonely."_

_Page 146, Deathly Hallows_

With unblinking emeralds, Harry Potter stared unwaveringly at Ron and Hermione's interlinked hands. The couple's beds had been pushed closer together, while on the other hand, Harry's bed was rather isolated in one corner of the bedroom. They were holding hands across the small space between their beds, and Harry sat up in bed, craning his head slightly.

Ron's fingers were curled possessively around Hermione's wrist, while the witch's fingers were gently upturned, her fingertips resting contentedly on the flesh of Ron's palm.

Harry thrust a hand in his hair and tugged absentmindedly, sighing softly under his breath. He crept out of bed quietly, making sure to avoid the floorboards that creaked. The brunette wandered to the window in their room, all the while blinking rapidly to erase the sands of sleep from the cobwebs of his eyes.

Days had melded into weeks, and weeks had blurred into months, and throughout the time, the trio had been so enmeshed in the trenches of the battlefield that some days, it was difficult to even breathe. Harry dragged his eyes disconsolately at the scenery of dreary dawn beyond; the watery, run-down streaks of dull, dismembered orange of the sun's rays that shot down from the heavens like bullets. And there were clouds, clouds that were tinged with steel grey _just like your eyes_-, smudged and smeared in the skies, heavy with the promise of rain.

Harry remembered how the light in Draco's eyes had fizzled out at the Astronomy Tower, how realization had smashed into the blond's every nerve, imprinting the fact that there was no turning back when Draco had pointed his wand at Dumbledore. Harry had seen the Slytherin's fear, his humanity and the grime exposed and illuminated on his pale, pointed features, it was like looking at life _through smeared mascara_-

_I'll find you in the dark-_

_wherever you choose to run-_

Sometimes, when he was emotionally alone, especially on quiet nights like this, Harry would wish that he had kept Draco's jacket with him, instead of impulsively setting it on fire. He found himself thinking more and more of Draco these few days, reminiscing about the taper of the blond's slim wrists down to his hands, the delicate bone structure of his arms and his fingers, and the jacket that was studded with sugary sprinkles of Draco's oh-so-familiar vanilla scent wafting and hovering around Harry's shoulders like a teasing hand _loving you comforts me in a strange way_-

But yet, a small part of Harry knew that the both of them would never be together, simply because reality was tearing them apart_ you can't make it feel right when you know it's wrong_-

Harry began to trace the pattern of the knotted and haloed clouds with a shaky finger as he waited patiently for the rain to fall. As though the gods above were mercifully granting Harry's wish, the sky began to bleed with clotted rain, droplets of rain like faint, tiny, translucent needles that pitter-pattered harmoniously and sweetly against the windows of 12 Grimmauld Place.

_because if it doesn't rain-_

_then everything will die._

* * *

_"'I can't – I can't be sure,' said Draco. He seemed as scared of looking at Harry as Harry was of looking at him."_

_Page 371, Deathly Hallows_

It was his worst nightmare that Draco had kept fiercely at bay, but somehow, somewhere, by a mocking, morbid warp of fate, it had exploded onto the scene with all the suddenness and vileness of a kidnapper's cloak.

Draco Malfoy stood, his eyes peeled as wide as they could go and the back of his knees trembling as he clamped his stare at a captured Ron, Hermione and Harry at Malfoy Manor. The blond's head shook imperceptibly from side to side, the situation presented in front of him shaking him like a meteor blasting down to earth. Draco's hand twitched, like he had to grab onto something for support. A deluge of pouring horror was flooding his system, bathing and suffusing every nerve ending in popping bubbles of liquid adrenaline. His heart was hammering and quivering in his chest, as though it was suffering some sort of seizure-

Harry was forced roughly under the chandelier of the hall, harsh facets of stabbing crystal yellow light illuminating him. A malevolent Fenrir Greyback stood careful guard behind the trio, surrounded by Snatchers that were ready to attack at a drop of a hat. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy flanked Draco, their hands fastened around their own wands. Fenrir licked his lips hungrily, the point of his tongue slashing across the inside of his upper lip as he let out an impatient snarl. The atmosphere was balanced perilously on a dagger's edge, and Draco knew that _with a slip of my tongue, it would be so easy to get all of you killed-_

The Gryffindors were now in Death Eater territory, and they had absolutely nowhere to run.

"Is that Potter and his friends, Draco? Identify him for us! Don't you understand, Draco, if we're the ones that hand Potter to the Dark Lord on a silver platter, everything will be forgiven!" Lucius hissed insistently in his son's ear, a skeletal hand gripping Draco's elbow urgently. A thin, reedy sliver of a laugh that threatened to rob Draco of his common sense tore from his throat. He knew that Voldemort's mood swings had taken on a more deranged level altogether. The Dark Lord would disappear for days on end, his temperament varying in between grotesque glee and reckless depression when he returned. A sense of danger hung in the air like shards of glass whenever Voldemort was around, because no one knew whether they would live to see another day.

And the Malfoys were always his first choice for a punching bag.

Voldemort's howls of rage and shrieks of anger would be directed towards his parents, and to him in a lesser extent. Draco knew that it wouldn't be long, oh no, it wouldn't be long before the Killing Curse would come into play.

Fear was climbing up Draco's spine like juicy spiders, but he still managed to school his expression into one of mere reluctance, with terror flittering at the borders, when the only thing he wanted to do was to run towards Harry and wail "_take me away from here, Harry, please, please, I'll go wherever you are, just don't leave me!"_

"Is that him, Draco? Tell us!" Narcissa had stumbled closer towards her son, her hand clutching pressingly onto Draco's other elbow.

Of course it was Harry.

Even with the Stinging Jinx in place, Draco could easily recognize the design of Harry's glasses pushed lopsidedly onto the brunette's puffed-out cheeks. Draco could see the scar on Harry's forehead_ because I've kissed it before._ Even with Draco's eyes darting skittishly from side to side, refusing to make eye contact with Harry, the blond could never mistake the Gryffindor in front of him for someone else _how could you, Draco, when he's held you through all your nightmares, Salazar, I can smell him from here, I, I can't_-

And it was only then that their eyes hooked onto each other, frightened pools of grey colliding with swollen slits of pleading, incapacitated, green _touch me where it hurts_- , the world was tilting on its axis and freezing on Draco's ankles, and time, time was ticking rippling, pounding crashing in Draco's ears, simply because Harry's fervently blinking eyes were speaking in a language _iloveyouithinkido, iloveyouithinkido_- that only Draco could comprehend-

_do you understand how-_

_the ice is getting thinner under me and you-_

_"After the war, I'll come and find you, Draco, I'll find you and we'll be together!"_

"I'm not sure," Draco said finally, dropping his head and his voice hitching at the end. With that proclamation, he could feel the shoulders of his parents sag in defeat, feel their hearts dropping like a boulder all the way down to their shoes, a stitch from falling apart-

The blond dragged his feet away to the fireplace and stared blankly at the leaping tendrils of fire, the long-cherished memories that he protected so strongly slinking from shadow to shadow-

_because this is-_

_where platinum boys sit with their hands tied-_

_and heroes wait for their brides until the day they _**die**.

* * *

_"Malfoy was screaming and holding Harry so tightly-"_

_Page 509, Deathly Hallows_

Branches of tears dripped and drizzled their way down Draco's heated cheeks as he held onto the unconscious body of Goyle with a manacle-like grip. The tower of desks were teetering and flailing uncontrollably beneath the soles of their feet, and it wouldn't be long before they would collapse altogether, and their bodies would forever be exhumed and trapped in this hellhole of a Room. Draco could only let out a piteous scream that was lost in the cavernous, gleeful depths of the Fiendfyre-

_will you be there when the fire is closing in_-

"Get on. Hurry!"

_when my breaths are getting shorter-_

It only took a blink of an eye before Draco felt Goyle being yanked roughly from his hands and carted away on Ron's broomstick. What little hesitant resistance _we might die here, but I'm only going to let you kill me once_- in Harry's eyes crumbled and toppled like dominoes when he took in the horror and shock etched on the blond's features. Harry snarled at nothing in particular when a chimera of flame licked playfully at the end of his broomstick. His face steeped with concentration, Harry flattened his body against the broom, swooped closer down and grabbed Draco's hand, his heart thudding like a trapped bird when his fingers brushed across the blond's wrist.

_when the fear is in my eyes-_

"Hold onto me. Come on!"

_will you be there to wave me goodbye when I die?_

With one last pull and turn, Draco was tucked snugly behind Harry as the pair zoomed their way out of the Room. With a soft sob, Draco held tightly onto the Gryffindor, burying his head into the crook of his shoulder, just like what he used to do a year before. The endless in between was separating Harry and Draco from the rest of the world, and it didn't matter, it never mattered at all _because if you're lucky enough, it's just youandhim_ **youandhim**-

The tears on his eyelids were blurring into a squall, and Draco could only paw desperately at Harry's clothes, his stomach, his shoulders, because Harry was there for him, holding him up above the swirling, dizzying spitfires of the maelstrom raging beneath them. Draco's mind was spinning, reeling with imploding, star-burst images and gasps and feelings and, and, _oh God, Harry, wrap me up in your arms just like you used to, kiss me and breathe life into me, hold me like you'll never let go, make me warm all over, touch me again, unfold me_… **love me**-

There was this… necessity to swallow and gulp every molecule of air around Draco, even if the overpowering stench of burnt artifacts was choking him, because the very scent of Harry was more than enough to chase his scars away-

And finally they were out of the Room, but Draco refused to relinquish his rigor mortis grip on Harry, because he was so scared, so scared that this might be the last time he might _seetouchfeelhear_- Harry ever again-

"Wait for me. I'll come back for you," Harry promised solemnly, his eyes true and serious. Draco nodded mutely, speechless and breathless from that harrowing experience. The brunette's gaze lingered, tangling over Draco's trusting grey eyes and singed hair and flame-tinged skin. With that, Harry turned away decisively and sprinted off, with Ron and Hermione in his wake.

Those words, that inevitable vow of hope and commitment, were the only scab that kept Draco from a complete breakdown.

* * *

_"He spotted the three Malfoys, huddled together-"_

_Page 597, Deathly Hallows_

The dust had only just begun to settle.

Thanks to Luna's timely distraction "_Look, a Blibbering Humdinger!", _Harry could weave through the crowds of the Hall without interruption, thanks to his trusty Cloak. There were countless things to do; grieve for the families of the dead, partake in the clutter of celebrations and parties that were certain to happen later, but there was only one thing in his mind right now that demanded his immediate urgency and attention. The brunette strained his way through the ruckus that was the Great Hall, easily dodging knots of people clustered around each other. His eyes were only intent on one person only-

And then he saw them, a trio of blond heads that were bowed at one lone corner of the Hall. Lucius Malfoy had his arms wrapped possessively around his wife and his son, while Narcissa was sobbing with complete disregard, their usual layer of Malfoy reserve stomped, crumpled and thrown to the ground. Draco was being embraced fiercely by his parents, but yet, Harry could see the way the Slytherin's head rose by just a fraction, his grey eyes seeking out the throng as though he was looking for someone-

Harry speedily darted to his line of vision, whisked the Cloak off just for a split-second and nodded his head at the blond. That action was slow enough for Draco to notice him, but fast enough for Harry to be undisturbed. Draco reared back in surprise when he spotted a swift glimpse of the brunette, but gently dislodged himself from his parents' grasp. Harry could see that Draco was making some sort of excuse for a quick getaway. Narcissa was hesitant at first, but after a bit of wheedling from her son, both Narcissa and Lucius acquiesced, but not before an authoritative Lucius whispered something sternly in Draco's ear.

With his head bent low, Draco sieved through the flocks in the Hall. Without a second's hesitation, the blond continued towards the Astronomy Tower, his tread certain and brisk. With sunbeams tugging at his heart, spurring him on, Harry licked his lips and followed the other boy, but still keeping his Cloak on.

And then, Harry was mounting the winding staircase of the Tower, just like he had done so for so many times the previous year, but this time, it was different, because Draco was waiting for him, had been waiting for him for the past year-

With a shaky hand, Harry slid the Cloak off his body, the silvery fabric pooling at his feet, laying neglected, as he greedily drank in the sight of the other boy that he had only seen in his dreams, in his thoughts, his eyes roving madly over Draco, knowing that this was _real_, it wasn't a joke, that Draco was there, just _right over there_, close enough to… _touch_, and Harry felt the ending of joy _wishes that had complicated the stars_-, exhilaration, and this discerning feeling that_ it had all been worth it_-

And it seemed as though Draco was doing the same thing, the distance between them remaining constant as both boys simply gazed at each other, because this was the epitome of uncomplicated closeness and warmth. There were no words to describe the feeling that both boys shared right at that very moment, it was as though their wishes were finally being granted and blended together to form this surreal, sliding, shifting, smoothing bloom of calmness and tranquility. There was no Fiendfyre disconnecting them from their emotions, no Stinging Jinxes, no Death Eaters, no Dark Lord, and they could just spend the whole day together, right here, in their secret hide-out at the Tower, just holding each other, and _it wouldn't even matter_-

Harry moved towards Draco, absorbing the slightly red and peeling arms of the blond from the Fiendfyre. A few scraps of Draco's hair were snarled into angry, tangled gnarls. The sides of Draco's face were smudged with black marks, and his raspberry lips were cut, with smears of dried blood like dewdrops, thanks to Ron's punch earlier. Harry frowned to himself _I don't want my Draco to be hurt_- and stepped closer to Draco. The Slytherin's breath hitched sharply, but he stayed still and silent, his eyes holding Harry's raw gaze-

Harry cradled Draco's face in his hands lovingly, using his thumbs to rub delicately at the bloodstains on Draco's chin and the top of his neck. With the tired and calloused fingers on his other hand, the Gryffindor smiled and began to patiently fix the snags in Draco's hair. The graceful ellipses of Draco's snowy lashes fluttered and flicked closed as he leant in to Harry's embrace, his dehydrated heart suddenly juddering to life as though Harry had cast some sort of spell over it.

"It's fine," Draco said quietly, his voice raspy and hoarse while he reached up and lightly pushed Harry's hands down. Harry responded by encircling Draco's frail body with his arms and squeezing him so hard and with so much longing that Draco could only hold onto Harry in turn, his head burrowed in Harry's shoulder and his own arms twined around Harry's neck. Their war-ravaged souls were finally put to peace, and their touches to each other were like sweet dreams that couldn't be stopped, an oasis of well-deserved security and sanctuary.

There was no need for frivolous conversation, no need for _"I missed you so much, I was so worried about you, so worried, I couldn't stop thinking of you, couldn't, couldn't-"_, because there seemed to be a strange sense of understanding shared between both boys. The only thing that they wanted was to slam this particular chapter in their life closed and _move on_-

His emeralds bright and iridescent, and his breathing fast with undisguised excitement, Harry chuckled quietly to himself and began to speak, his voice rich with ambition and promise.

"A house, maybe in the countryside, but well, it'll be nice if it was near Ron and Hermione. It'll be bright with lots of sun all day round, and when night falls, the view's going to be brilliant, there'll be stars scattered in the sky, and the moon will be perfect. It doesn't matter if it's near a small town or a big city, I just want it to be comfortable."

With that, Harry paused and waited expectantly for Draco to comment on the future that he had molded for the both of them, a dream that Harry had fantasized about during the War, a dream that was suddenly so reachable now-

It was peculiar how Draco wriggled his way out of Harry's hug, those grey eyes dilating with an escalating well of pain and disappointment, his heart dancing to a song of heartbreak and hope, and then Draco was retreating from the confused brunette, the cold, mercurial breeze dividing and plunging them into a chasm of splintered dreams-

_because I shouldn't mind breaking your heart-_

"I'm sure… I'm sure the Weaslette would like it," Draco murmured, looking down to the floor and rubbing the tops of his arms defensively.

That lone sentence threw Harry in a mesh of full-stops and exclamation marks. He managed a truncated laugh and shook his head vigorously, advancing towards Draco.

"No, it's not for her. It's for the both of us, it's for me and you. If you don't like the countryside, we could always figure out something else. As long as I'm with you-"

"My family's moving to France."

Echoing, frittering shock clogged Harry's every pore.

"And that's the only reason why I met you here, to tell you this. We're taking the Portkey this evening. So we're done here. It was nice seeing you again, Potter," Draco mumbled dejectedly, before turning away and-

"_No!_ I'm not letting you go like this! Not after all we've been through!" Harry shouted, clutching Draco around the wrist with a vice-like grip. "Fine. If you want to go to France, I'll go with you. Let me run away with you-"

"Do you know what you're talking about? You have to stay here and bask in your well-deserved glory! It's everything that you've worked for, bled for, suffered for for the past seven years! You can't just leave! Don't you know what's going to happen to you? You're going to be rich, Harry, you're going to have interviews, endorsements, there'll be other people… other people… more…_ suited _for you that's willing to queue around the block for your heart-"

"I don't care, I don't care a bit for that rubbish because I want you, _I only want you,_ Draco-"

"The Malfoy name has been dragged through the mud, my family has been disgraced beyond repair! And when the Ministry gets its act together, the Malfoys are the ones that are going to be hunted down and prosecuted first-"

"I'll vouch for all three of you, I'll protect you, just don't leave like this, please-"

"It'll be all over the papers, the tabloids, Malfoy and Potter! The media backlash, everyone's expecting Potter and Weasley- no, _no_, Harry, let _go_, it'll never work out, _we'll _never work out-" Draco raged, because how was it possible, how was it plausible to fashion a proper, genuine relationship with bits and pieces of borrowed touch and too little words, and as blazing grey landed on wounded green-

"I don't give a damn what the press thinks! I'm done with them! I think I deserve to do something that makes me happy for a change! Does it matter, Draco, because we might still be together next month, next year, for the next ten years, only if you gave me, gave_ us_ a chance! I don't care about forever, I don't care about everyone else because, because-" Harry's voice, sounding rough and tortured, suddenly dropped to a mere whisper- "Because all I need in this life is just _you needing me_."

Each world was stinging like a bloodied kiss to Draco, and there was pain, this _awful,_ shrieking pain scything across his skin that penetrated, wounded him so much more than the burns on his arms when Draco saw the hurt that he had inflicted carved into Harry's eyes-

"I will do anything for my family. The Malfoys can't stay here, we've got to lie low! My parents will never leave here without me, and I can't endanger their lives once more! You've seen what lengths I was willing to go through last year to keep their lives. I will never choose you over my family. That's a fact, and no matter what you do or what you say, that will never change!" Draco blustered, an air of finality to his words, just like_ how you would break a child_-

It was almost like being in a catatonic state of mind, there was the world crashing around his ears, and Harry streaked his hands desperately through his mass of black locks, part of him refusing to believe that this was happening, that everything was going to be snatched away after all the heartbroken hope, after all the misplaced misery, after all the… the _stars_-

"I will always love you, I will always be thinking about you, I will always be dreaming about you, even if it means having my heart crushed by you a hundred times into a million little pieces."

_he was heartache the moment you met him-_

Harry's declaration hung and shimmered in the air like the echoes after a gunshot, and Draco's fingers curled and clenched, feeling the hurt and grief ripping through him. The wind blew and caressed both boys, scribbles of Draco's blond tendrils being stirred and rearranged by the empty fingers of the wind, undoing Harry's previous maneuvers on Draco's hair-

"Just one kiss. Before you go. Our first, and our last," Harry said dully, his sentences broken up into stilted chunks and emerging from his mouth as though a ventriloquist was speaking through him-

_like a bone, like a bone, I'm so breakable-_

A shatter of hope and a squirm of terror twisted Draco's heart, and it was so tempting, so tempting to press his lips onto Harry's, to convince himself that this was actually… actually _goodbye_, and he could see Harry's eyes, eyes that were embroidered with vanishing, fading snapshots of suns, moons and stars-

_I don't want to feel anything._

_But I do._

But Draco knew that if he let himself surrender to Harry's kisses, he would_ never be able to leave_-

The doves high above twirled and pirouetted amongst the clouds, painting their curves in the precious opal sky. A soft fog coiled and curled around their ankles, dissipating beneath their toes, reminding Draco that it was _time to go_-

This was rejection the second time.

"Forget me," Draco whispered, his eyes sweeping _if only I could meet you again, in a different life, different situation, different time_- over Harry's wild hair, his numb hands.

_Come back to me._

"I can't," Harry said, dazed. His heart was breaking all over again, this screeching, agonizing sensation at the middle of his chest-

_I was never yours to begin with._

It was like a failed, carelessly abandoned love story that had never been completed, its _happilyeverafter_ torn away and thrown into the wind that never took flight, because of sacrifice, and because these were the skeletons in the closet that would never see the judgmental light of day, simply because-

With his own sobs tearing from his throat, Draco fled _I'll always be right here with a single sole regret_- the scene, and he wondered, oh, how he wondered, _why the world was suddenly out of color_-

* * *

EPILOGUE 

_"Draco caught sight of Harry... nodded curtly and turned away again."_

_Page 605, Deathly Hallows_

"Now, remember to smile as much as possible, eat your three square meals a day, and don't talk with your mouth full, take care of your owl, always,_ always_, listen to your professors, don't forget to write back home, and oh, don't forget to change your underwear daily-"

"Mother! Don't embarrass me!" Scorpius squeaked, scandalized as he looked furtively around the train station. It was the usual affair of organized chaos, with parents and children bidding tearful goodbyes, the raucous laughter and cheerful shrieks of Hogwarts students who were exchanging greetings at the start of a fresh school term. There were already some pets on the loose, and a surprised Scorpius jumped back as a big, fat toad hopped in between him and Astoria.

"Oh, don't forget to write to Grand-pere and Grand-mere back in Lille! They've promised to send you your favorite pastries from France," Astoria trilled, to which Scorpius rolled his eyes good-naturedly and grinned up at his parents.

"Tell us the results of your Sorting when you receive it," Draco Malfoy mentioned, much to Scorpius' slight unease.

"Father, what if… what if I get into… _Gryffindor_?" Scorpius whispered incredulously, his nose wrinkling as though he had caught a whiff of something putrid.

Draco sighed and uttered that particular refrain once again, "It doesn't matter to us, Scorpius. I've already told Grand-pere that he should stop bringing up the events of the war. Besides, not all Gryffindors are that intolerable," Draco finished, his voice petering off when his eyes latched onto a certain Harry Potter bending down to speak to Albus. Astonished green and evasive grey clashed, and Draco hurriedly turned away.

"Isn't that Harry Potter, Father?" Scorpius said, tugging on his father's sleeve in a flurry. "Isn't he the Golden Boy and your enemy when the both of you were in Hogwarts? And that's his son, isn't it?"

"Now, I won't have you provoking the boy simply because he's a Potter, you hear," Draco said firmly, his face cracking into a smile when Scorpius blinked at his father with the finesse of an innocent.

"It's time to go, darling. Remember your manners, especially when you're meeting new people!" Astoria reminded. Scorpius beamed at his parents, said his goodbyes and scurried off to the train. The Malfoys stayed there for a while, waving contentedly at their only son while the train hooted chirpily and pulled away from the station.

"He's all grown up now, isn't he?" Astoria sniffed, fishing out a lacy handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes with it. "Anyway, I'm off to the shops now. Do you need me to buy anything for you? A new suit, perhaps?"

"It's alright. I'll see you at home after the meeting in the afternoon," Draco replied.

"Don't come home too late. I'll have Binky cook your favorites for dinner," Astoria smiled, leant up and pecked her husband fondly on his cheek before tottering off. But Draco still remained rooted to the spot for some reason or another, until the crowds parted and dissolved into the mist and revealed a lone Harry Potter, standing directly in front of Draco.

Each regarded the other with eyes that refused to blink.

And Draco wondered why he had broken his own heart.

The blond had piled on the sharp, syrupy bittersweetness in an attempt to dull his guilt and regret, and for the past years, maybe when he was sitting down to dinner with his family, penning a proposal for his work, from out of the blue, he would wonder what would have happened if he had agreed to leave with Harry, agreed to their little imaginary home in the countryside. It had been a fatal secret, gnawing and nipping away at Draco, and he knew beyond doubt that the other man had felt the same way too, squirreling it away like some… disease-

_"-bright with lots of sun all day round-"_

Some nights, when reality seemed to be getting to Draco, he would simply sit outside their manor in France and gaze up dreamily at the sky. There was no need for the regularity and clockwork of the world, it was only him, the stars, a coquettish glimpse of the half-moon, and if Draco strained really, really hard, he might just hear the non-existent whispers of Harry-

_"-stars scattered across the sky-"_

Up to this day, Astoria still didn't know why Draco did that. She only knew that Draco was not to be disturbed, and at moments, she might catch a flitter of pain slice across Draco's features-

_"-the moon will be perfect-"_

Draco had waited for the memories to get blurry, oh he had waited for this love to have run its course, had hoped that his feelings for Harry was something like hot breaths on frosted glass, like pencil marks fading away on paper with each tick of the clock, something that would pale and vanish when the mornings of his life came around.

_"-my heart crushed by you!"_

But it never did.

It had lain dormant, concealed at the trapdoor at the back of Draco's mind, teasing him whenever he saw someone that might look like Harry wandering the cobbled streets, whenever he woke up, his dreams of the brunette sizzling and spluttering behind his eyes, and Draco would try as hard as he could to claw it back, but it had already dissolved into the heavens where they sold wishes-

Draco had tried to fend it off, sidestep it every single time whenever he was reminded of his sixth and seventh year, but to no avail, because no matter how many times he tried to push it away, it kept scudding back to him, until Draco taught himself how to cripple himself with his own lies and denial. A small part of him had never healed fully, and it didn't matter because when the blond tried to bandage it all up, it would start to hurt yet again, the red seeping through the white, opening like a fresh wound all over again-

And Harry was moving towards him now, and Draco recognized the oh-so-familiar hunch in his back, the awkward little rhythm that Harry brought with each step, until Harry was there, just, right, there, close enough to_ touch_, the space between them was where the ghost of a thousand unfulfilled kisses were lolling like all the unclaimed stars in the night skies-

It was mandatory to sweep over the silence raging within them, break it with rude noise, plain words and conversation and meaningless questions, to ignore how their fates had been embroiled and gotten lost with each other's, because if not, Draco might just-

_you and I will always be unfinished business-_

It was impossible to stare in each other's eyes and pretend that nothing had ever happened.

"Hey," Harry said. His voice still appeared to be the same, low, comforting, yet soft, but now it contained a smidgeon of weariness of the world-

"Good morning," Draco replied formally. "Your son… looks very much like you."

"Yours too," the ex-Gryffindor said pointlessly. "You look… just as good as ever," Harry managed, his words gone quieter and tripping a bit.

"You too," Draco answered awkwardly, and then there was this stifling need to get away from the scene, because suddenly, everything had taken a dangerous turn, Harry was shifting closer, the look in his eyes _what we could have been if you'd only let me_-

"I need to… I need to go. It was nice seeing you again," Draco mumbled inanely, turning away-

_you're the knot in my heart that I'm still trying to untangle-_

"Draco, wait! Look, I know this little café around the corner, they make really nice cakes, would you… would you… I mean, it's okay if you're busy or you've got to rush off somewhere, but… won't you just… spend a little time with me?"

_we're not even close to the lovers kissing in the ballroom-_

If Draco refused, this would be rejection the third time.

There were alarm bells clanging in Draco's head, and he looked at the spot beside him where Astoria had occupied merely minutes ago, and at the tracks, where Scorpius had boarded the train-

"Don't get me wrong, it's just a meal, you know, to catch up…" Harry trailed off, but Draco could see the way the fingers of the other man twitched, as though he was itching to reach over and take Draco's hand in his own, the way Harry's tongue darted out and ran over his lower lip, as though he wanted to… wanted to_ kiss _Draco-

_the most exciting attractions are between two opposites that never meet-_

"I-" Draco started, jerking his head to one side, but stumbled as he took in the plaintive plea in Harry's eyes, the soft downturn of his lips, the dismayed curve of his fingers. Their feelings for each other had been unspoken for and unexplored for the past few years, the stolen breaths, every ricochet of heartbeat, the hands that had failed to hold each other, the lips unkissed, the love story that was the greatest _never_ heard-

Draco swallowed shakily, and gradually, he released the tension in his arms that had been folded ineptly across his chest, leaving them hanging from his sides hopelessly. His mind was already replaying this scene, hoarding it away in the little bejeweled treasure box in his heart-

The ex-Slytherin dredged up a smile, his eyes crinkling at the sides, and now, he was the one that took an encouraging step towards Harry, that single word that he muttered only having a heartbeat of hesitation at the beginning, but Draco felt his heart lift dangerously when he saw the emboldened hope in Harry's sparkling eyes-

"Alright."

* * *

_Pandora's Box: -but it is said, that at the very bottom of the box, there lay… hope._

**/fin**

The real ending is for the reader's personal interpretation.

So, I think I've finally got all the angst out of my system, which means that the next fic would probably be something ridiculously sweet and endearing, but certainly not too frilly or mushy.

_Hardly Rational_ will be released next Friday, 11 June. Thanks for wading through this two-shot!


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